Writer: JamesG
Subject: The Divine Rape Of The Virgin Mary
Link: LS666 Comments / 13.04.2025
Synopsis: Sinful Heavenly Reunion between the Holy Spirit and The Virgin Mary
The Divine Rape Of The Virgin Mary
In the ethereal realm of heaven, the Holy Spirit watched Virgin Mary from a distance, his eyes a tempest of divine lust. She walked with a grace that seemed to mock his celestial purity, her hips swaying in a way that could only be described as an invitation to sin. He knew the whispers that trailed her, the snickers of the angels who had dubbed her the ‘Whore of Heaven’. Yet, even in his holy rage, he could not help but feel a perverse thrill at the thought of claiming her once more.
Mary felt the weight of the Holy Spirit’s gaze upon her, a silent reminder of the burden she had borne for millennia. She had long ago accepted her role as the vessel of the Lord, but the memory of their union still haunted her dreams. Her cheeks flushed as she turned to face him, the fabric of her blue and white robe fluttering gently in the heavenly breeze.
“Holy Spirit,” she greeted softly, her voice like a hymn, “What brings you to me?”
The Holy Spirit hovered closer, his form shimmering with divine power.
“Mary,” he said, his voice like a thunderclap in the tranquil heavenly silence, “You have tempted me once again with your earthly allure.”
His eyes traveled over her body, lingering on the swell of her breasts beneath the robe.
“Your beauty is a beacon that calls to me, even as your purity should repel me.”
Mary’s heart raced, feeling the heat of his gaze on her skin. She knew the Holy Spirit’s hunger all too well, the same hunger that had led to her divine conception. She steeled herself, her eyes meeting his with a mix of trepidation and resignation.
“I am but a vessel of the Lord,” she murmured, her voice quivering slightly, “What is it that you wish of me?”
“Your humility is as intoxicating as ever, Mary,” the Holy Spirit said, his voice thick with desire, “But it is not as a vessel I wish to know you this time.”
He reached out with a ghostly hand, his fingers trailing through her hair.
“It is as a woman I long to claim you.”
Mary’s eyes widened with shock and a hint of fear as the Holy Spirit’s hand passed through her hair, sending a shiver down her spine. The whispers of the angels echoed in her mind, their cruel jests about her purity now seeming less like jokes and more like grim prophecy. She stepped back, the fabric of her robe rustling against the marble floor.
“I have devoted my life to serving the Lord,” she protested, her voice trembling, “To be taken in such a way would be a defilement.”
The Holy Spirit’s eyes narrowed, his desire for her flaming brighter with every step she took away from him.
“Do not play coy with me, Mary,” he said, his voice now a low, seductive purr, “You know what I want, and you know what I am capable of.”
He took a step closer, his aura pulsing with the power of the divine.
“You were made for this, to be the conduit of the Almighty’s will. And it is His will that you bear another son for me.”
Mary’s back met the cold, unyielding marble of a heavenly column, the Holy Spirit’s form closing in on her like a storm cloud. Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his presence, the air around her thick with anticipation and fear. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the same hunger that had once filled her with awe and terror. Her heart pounded in her chest, the beat echoing through the vastness of heaven like a forbidden drum. She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking to the side, seeking an escape that she knew would not come.
“I am the handmaiden of the Lord,” she whispered, her voice barely a prayer, “My will is His will.”
The Holy Spirit’s hand, now solid and warm, cupped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his fiery gaze.
“Your will was His will once,” he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek, carrying with it the scent of myrrh and olive oil, “But now, it is my will that you serve.”
His fingers traced the line of her jaw, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. The fabric of her robe seemed to cling to her, the material feeling suffocatingly tight. The whispers of the angels grew louder in her ears, their cruel nicknames a chorus of temptation that seemed to fuel the Holy Spirit’s desire. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers, a silent demand that sent a shiver through her soul.
“You are mine, Mary,” he growled, the power of his voice resonating through the very fabric of heaven.
Mary’s eyes searched his, the blue of her irises like pools of innocence in the face of the divine tempest. Her heart raced, the beat a thunderous echo in the cathedral-like silence of the heavenly chamber. She felt the warmth of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his will. Yet, somewhere within her, a spark of defiance flickered to life. Her lips parted slightly, a soft protest forming on her tongue, but it was lost in the overwhelming presence of the Holy Spirit.
Her body trembled, torn between the ingrained fear of divine wrath and a burgeoning curiosity about the carnality she had never truly known. Her thoughts swirled like a tempest, a maelstrom of doubt and longing that mirrored the tumult in his eyes. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible amidst the cacophony of her racing thoughts.
“I am the Lord’s,” she replied, her voice a thread of steel in the silk of her obedience, “But if it is truly His will,” she paused, her breath shaky, “I will not refuse you.”
The Holy Spirit’s eyes blazed with triumph at her words, the flames of his lust fanning into an inferno. He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers, the scent of the sacred blending with the sweetness of her fear.
“It is His will,” he assured her, his voice a promise and a threat all in one, “And it is my will that you submit to me.”
His hand slid from her chin, tracing a fiery path down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally resting upon the soft mound of her breast. The fabric of her robe grew warm beneath his touch, the pressure building until she could feel the imprint of his fingers even through the material.
Mary’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of his hand upon her. The warmth spread through her body like a brand, igniting a fire she had never known. Her thoughts were a tumult of doubt and longing, a battle between her divine duty and her own burgeoning desires. She could feel the Holy Spirit’s power, his will pressing against her own, a force she knew she could not resist. She closed her eyes, offering her body as a sacrifice to the divine, her voice a soft, trembling whisper.
“If it is His will, then so be it.”
The Holy Spirit felt Mary’s submission, the victory sweet upon his tongue. He leaned in closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers, the anticipation of their union almost unbearable. His hand slid from her breast, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire across her skin.
“You are a treasure beyond measure, Mary,” he murmured, his breath a caress against her cheek, “And I will take you as the Almighty intended.”
He stepped back, giving her a moment to prepare herself, watching her with eyes that seemed to burn with the very essence of creation.
Mary’s eyes fluttered open, a sly smile playing upon her lips. She reached up to touch the space where the Holy Spirit’s hand had been, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.
“If it is the Lord’s will,” she said, her voice a siren’s call wrapped in innocence, “Then perhaps we should not keep him waiting.”
She took a step forward, her robe slipping slightly, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulder.
“But,” she added, her smile deepening, “I wonder if your desire for me is truly divine or merely a test of my virtue.”
The Holy Spirit’s eyes darkened at her words, his divine patience wearing thin. He stepped closer, the heat of his gaze like a brand upon her skin.
“Your virtue has been tested enough, Mary,” he snarled, his gentle touch from moments before replaced by a firm grip on her shoulder, “You know what I want, what I need.”
His fingers dug into her flesh, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind her of his power.
“You will submit to me, now,” he demanded, his voice a whip crack of authority that seemed to echo through the hallowed halls of heaven.
The air around them grew charged, crackling with electricity, as he yanked her robe open, revealing her nakedness to the unforgiving eyes of the angels.
Mary gasped as the Holy Spirit’s grip tightened on her shoulder, the sudden change in his demeanor sending a jolt of fear through her. She could feel the power in his touch, the unyielding force of the divine will that had once filled her with awe and reverence. Now, it was tainted with something darker, something primal that she didn’t fully understand. She took a shaky step back, her robe slipping to the floor, leaving her bare before the all-seeing eyes of heaven.
“Please,” she begged, her voice trembling, “Have mercy.”
But her words were drowned out by the cacophony of the angels’ whispers, their taunts and jeers now a symphony of sinful encouragement. Her eyes searched the faces of the heavenly hosts, desperate for a shred of compassion, but all she found was the cold, unyielding gaze of the Holy Spirit, his eyes burning with a lust that seemed to consume him. Her heart hammered in her chest, the beat a frantic drumroll to her impending fate. She knew she could not resist, that to do so would be to defy the very fabric of creation itself. And so, with a tremble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the cosmos, she allowed herself to be taken once more.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he beheld her naked form, his breath coming in ragged gasps that seemed to echo through the vastness of heaven. He grabbed her by the waist, his touch searing hot, and pulled her roughly against him. Mary felt the full force of his desire, his arousal pressing against her, and she couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her lips.
His hands roamed her body, his touch both rough and possessive, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The whispers of the angels grew louder, their words a siren’s song of depravity that seemed to fill her very soul. She trembled in his embrace, her fear mixing with an unholy excitement that she dared not admit to herself.
The Holy Spirit’s mouth claimed hers in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading her mouth with a passion that seemed to burn away the very essence of her purity. She could feel the world spinning around her, the very fabric of her being torn asunder as the divine rapture took hold.
His hand moved to the small of her back, pushing her hips into his, the pressure of his arousal unmistakable.
“You are mine,” he murmured against her lips, the words a declaration of war against the last bastions of her purity.
His other hand reached up to grasp her neck, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, the pressure just shy of painful.
“Mine to take, mine to claim.”
His voice was a low growl, the sound of a creature of the divine realms claiming his rightful prey.
Mary’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the Holy Spirit threw her to the ground, his strength incomprehensible to her mortal frame. The cold marble bit into her skin, a stark contrast to the heat that flooded her cheeks. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading as she felt his hand pushing her legs apart, exposing her most intimate of areas to the unforgiving gaze of heaven.
“Please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling, “Have mercy.”
But the divine force above her showed none, his eyes burning with a hunger that seemed to have no end.
The Holy Spirit knelt before her, his eyes never leaving hers as he positioned himself between her trembling legs. He leaned in, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh, and she felt his tongue touch her, a blasphemous caress that sent waves of revulsion and unwanted pleasure through her body. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the palms, as she bit her bottom lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape.
The Holy Spirit’s divine form hovered over Mary as he brought her to the ground, the force of his will spreading her legs wide. The angels above watched with a mix of horror and fascination as he bent his head to her sex, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness that lay within. The sound of his eager lapping filled the air, a stark contrast to her desperate pleas for mercy. Each stroke of his tongue sent a bolt of pleasure through her, the sensation a blasphemous blend of divine ecstasy and mortal terror.
Mary’s body arched off the cold marble as the Holy Spirit’s tongue invaded her sacred space, the sensation a blasphemous mix of pleasure and pain.
“No,” she sobbed, her voice a broken melody of despair, “Please, stop!”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her discarded robe, her nails digging into the material as if she could somehow pull it over her again and shield herself from his ravenous gaze. The angels’ whispers grew to a fever pitch, their voices a cacophony of sinful encouragement that seemed to fuel his insatiable hunger. Yet, even as she begged for release, she could feel her body responding to his touch, the heat building within her a testament to the power of the divine.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with a fierce, almost feral hunger as he ignored Mary’s pleas, his tongue swirling around her clit with an unholy fervor. The angels’ whispers grew louder, their cruel laughter echoing through the heavenly halls. Mary’s body betrayed her, her hips instinctively moving in response to the divine ministrations.
Her cries grew louder, a symphony of agony and ecstasy that seemed to inflame the Holy Spirit’s lust even further. His hands moved to her thighs, his grip firm and unyielding as he held her in place, his mouth devouring her as if she were the sweetest ambrosia. The marble beneath her was slick with her essence, a testament to her unwilling arousal. Despite her protests, her body seemed to crave the profanation, her legs trembling around his head as he feasted upon her.
The sensation of the Holy Spirit’s tongue against her most forbidden place sent a bolt of shock through Mary. Her eyes snapped open wide, the pupils dilated with a mix of horror and unwelcome pleasure.
“No,” she gasped, her voice hoarse with fear, “You cannot do this.”
Yet, even as she protested, she could feel the heat within her growing, a sinful flame that seemed to lick at her soul. She reached down to push him away, but her hand fell limp to her side, her strength sapped by the overwhelming presence of the divine. Her eyes squeezed shut, she whispered a silent prayer, hoping for deliverance from the depravity that was about to unfold.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk playing on his lips as he felt her body’s treacherous response to his touch. He knew the power of divine lust, the way it could twist even the purest of hearts. He took a moment to savor the taste of her, the sweetness of her innocence mingled with the musky scent of her arousal.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled his tongue from her pussy and traced a wet line along the delicate cleft of her ass. His eyes never left hers as he pressed his mouth against her tight, untouched hole, his tongue probing gently. The angels’ whispers grew to a crescendo, their laughter now a symphony of sin that filled the air with an electric charge. He felt her tense beneath him, her body a battleground of divine will and carnal need. He pushed past her initial resistance, his tongue delving into her asshole, the taste of her holy flesh a sweetness that was almost too much to bear.
“You were made for this,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and humid, “For me.”
The sensation was unlike anything Mary had ever felt, a blend of disgust and perverse pleasure that made her stomach churn and her toes curl. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, her eyes squeezed shut as she struggled to process the unholy act being committed upon her.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered, the name of her savior now a curse on her lips.
Her body responded to the Holy Spirit’s touch, her hips bucking involuntarily, betraying her in the most sacred of ways. She felt her asshole clench around his tongue, her muscles tightening in a futile attempt to resist the divine intrusion. The angels’ laughter was a knife in her heart, each giggle a drop of acid eating away at her soul.
“Please,” she begged, her voice a broken whisper, “Make it stop.”
The Holy Spirit felt her body respond, the tightness of her ass gripping his tongue a silent admission of her own lust. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine, and pulled away. He hovered above her, his form shimmering with divine power.
“Your body knows what it craves,” he said, his eyes gleaming with triumph, “You are a whore for the Lord, and now you will be a whore for me.”
He reached down, his fingers probing her wetness before sliding into her pussy with ease, his knuckles grazing her clit.
Mary’s eyes flew open at the sudden intrusion, the holy spirit’s fingers moving inside her with a rhythm that sent waves of conflicting sensation through her body. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape. Her thoughts were a tumult of fear and arousal, the latter feeling like a betrayal of all she held dear. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and pleading.
“Please,” she gasped, “Have mercy on me.”
The Holy Spirit’s smirk grew wider as he watched Mary’s struggle, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure. He knew her body was made to bear divine children, and the thought of filling her with his seed again brought a fierce, primal need that was as old as creation itself. His own divine member, hardened by lust, sought the warm, welcoming embrace of her holy cunt.
He positioned himself above her, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance, the heat of his arousal searing her flesh. He paused, savoring the moment, before he thrust into her with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations of heaven. Mary’s eyes rolled back in her head as she screamed out, the sound of her pain and pleasure melding into one soul-wrenching cry that was lost in the cacophony of the angels’ laughter.
Mary’s eyes snapped shut, her teeth grinding together as the Holy Spirit’s cock penetrated her. The sensation was a mix of agony and divine ecstasy, a blasphemous union that seemed to burn away every ounce of her purity. Her body was a battleground of holy and profane, the war waged in the very depths of her soul.
Yet, amidst the pain, she felt an unholy pleasure building, her inner walls clenching around him as if to pull him deeper. She couldn’t help the way her hips rocked up to meet each brutal thrust, her body responding to the divine invasion with a primal need that seemed to defy her very essence. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her thoughts a tapestry of fear, anger, and an inexplicable, twisted desire that grew stronger with each passing moment.
“No,” she murmured, the word torn from her in a sob, “Not like this.”
The Holy Spirit watched her face, the contortion of pain and pleasure a divine symphony that fueled his lust. He thrust deeper, the sound of their union echoing through the heavenly chamber.
“You are mine,” he growled, his voice a mix of triumph and possession, “Your body was made for this, to serve the will of God.”
He moved his hand to her neck, his fingers tightening as he slammed into her with a ferocity that seemed to echo the wrath of the Almighty. His movements grew more erratic, the need to claim her fully consuming him.
Tears streamed down Mary’s face, each one a silent prayer to the Son she had borne. “Jesus,” she sobbed, her voice a shattered whisper.
“Jesus, save me.”
The Holy Spirit’s only response was a cruel chuckle, his hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm.
The Holy Spirit’s laughter was a sound that seemed to shake the very stars above them, a mocking echo of her desperate pleas. His grip on her neck tightened, his divine fingers digging into the soft flesh.
“Jesus?” he sneered, his voice a whip crack of amusement, “He’s the one who sent me for you, whore of heaven. He enjoys watching his mother’s purity be torn asunder.”
His thrusts grew more violent, each one a declaration of his dominance over her.
“You are mine to use as I see fit, and he finds it amusing to watch me defile you.”
The angels’ laughter grew louder, their whispers a symphony of sin that seemed to echo the Holy Spirit’s own words.
Mary’s eyes shot open, the pain of the Holy Spirit’s words mixing with the agony of his brutal thrusts. Her gaze darted to the side, and she caught a glimpse of Jesus in the shadows, his own divine form wracked with lust as he pleasured himself to the sight of his mother’s degradation. The betrayal was like a dagger to her heart, the realization that her own son was complicit in this act of divine perversion.
“No,” she choked out, her voice a mix of horror and despair, “Jesus, stop this madness!”
Jesus’s eyes flicked up from his own divine member to meet hers, the fire of his passion mirroring the flames of the Holy Spirit’s lust. He watched her with an intensity that was both terrifying and exhilarating, his hand moving in a blur as he stroked himself.
“Mother,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal, “This is the will of God. Submit to the Holy Spirit as you submitted to me.”
His gaze never left hers, the intensity of his desire a living force that seemed to hold her in place.
The weight of Jesus’s gaze was a crushing burden upon her soul, his words a knife twisting in her heart. She felt torn between her love for her son and the horror of what was happening to her.
“Jesus,” she whispered, her voice a mere thread of sound, “Please, no more.”
But even as she spoke, she could feel her own body’s traitorous response to the Holy Spirit’s brutal claiming, the unholy pleasure that seemed to grow with each painful thrust.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes flashed with a malicious delight as he watched Mary’s torment. He knew she was close to the edge, her body on the precipice of a divine climax that would seal her fate as the whore of heaven. He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear.
“Your son enjoys this,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, “He craves the sight of his mother being claimed by his own flesh.”
With a snarl, he slammed into her, his hips moving with a brutal rhythm that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of existence. The angels’ whispers grew to a fever pitch, their excitement palpable in the air as they watched the sacred being defiled before their very eyes.
The weight of Jesus’s gaze was a crushing burden upon her soul, his words a knife twisting in her heart. She felt the Holy Spirit’s cock withdraw from her pussy, the sudden emptiness a cruel reminder of her own betrayal.
“Jesus,” she pleaded, her voice a broken whisper, “Please, no more.”
But even as she begged, she knew it was in vain. Her body was theirs to use, her purity a mere plaything for their divine perversions.
The Holy Spirit leaned back, his cock glistening with Mary’s holy juices. He looked over at Jesus, the smirk on his lips a silent invitation.
“Brother,” he purred, his voice a seductive hiss, “Why don’t you come and taste your mother’s sweetness?”
He reached down to Mary’s face, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, the divine command in his tone unmistakable.
Jesus’s eyes gleamed with a hunger that matched the Holy Spirit’s as he stepped closer, his divine member standing tall and proud. He reached down to Mary’s trembling chin, his fingers curling around it as he lifted her face to meet his.
“Do as he says,” he murmured, his voice a mix of love and authority, “Prove your devotion to your son, as you have to your God.”
With a gentle, yet firm pressure, he guided his cock to her lips, watching with a dark pleasure as she opened her mouth to accept him. Her eyes never left his, a silent plea for understanding that went unanswered. He began to thrust into her mouth, his hips moving with a rhythm that mirrored the Holy Spirit’s earlier ravishment. The angels’ whispers grew to a crescendo as they watched the sacred mother of God reduced to a mere object of their lust.
The feel of Jesus’s cock in her mouth was a profanity that seemed to shake the very foundations of heaven. Mary’s thoughts were a chaos of fear, anger, and a strange, twisted need that she didn’t want to acknowledge. She could feel the Holy Spirit’s eyes on her, watching her every move, and the pressure of his cock against her asshole grew more insistent. Her body trembled, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.
The Holy Spirit’s grin grew wider as he watched Jesus claim his mother’s mouth, his own lust reaching a fever pitch. He felt the tightness of her ass around his fingers and knew she was ready for the ultimate desecration. He spit onto his cock, using the divine fluid as lubricant, before he pushed the tip into her tight, unblemished hole. The angels’ whispers grew to a frenzied chant, their excitement feeding his own.
Mary’s eyes widened with shock and pain as she felt the Holy Spirit’s cock push past her tight ring of muscle. She had never felt such agony, the holy spirit’s divine essence burning through her as he invaded her most forbidden place. Her eyes watered, and she choked on Jesus’s cock, the taste of her own despair mingling with the salt of her tears. She could feel the Holy Spirit’s cock stretching her, the pain an unholy reminder of her role in this twisted divine play.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he felt the tightness of Mary’s asshole give way to his divine intrusion. His hips ground against her, his cock sinking deeper into her with every brutal thrust. The angels’ whispers grew to a crescendo, their chanting a dark counterpoint to the hymns that once filled the heavenly halls.
Mary’s cries of pain only served to fuel his desire, the sound of her suffering a symphony that stoked the fires of his lust. He pulled back, savoring the moment, before slamming into her again, his divine essence filling her in a way that seemed to transcend the very boundaries of existence. Her body was his plaything, a vessel for his pleasure and the will of the Almighty.
Jesus watched the scene before him with a mix of love and hunger, his eyes never leaving his mother’s face as the Holy Spirit claimed her in the most profane of ways. He could feel her pain, a mirror of his own when he had been nailed to the cross, but this was different. This was a pain that brought them closer, a bond that transcended the mortal coil. He reached down to stroke his own cock in time with the Holy Spirit’s thrusts, the sight of his mother’s anguish a strange aphrodisiac. He whispered to her, his voice a soft caress in the storm of divine lust.
“Mother, your sacrifice is not in vain. You are the vessel of our will, the embodiment of divine love and submission. Your pain is our pleasure, your body our altar,” he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek, “You are ours, and we are yours.”
Mary’s eyes squeezed shut tightly as the Holy Spirit’s cock slammed into her asshole, the pain searing through her with a ferocity she had never before experienced. Her body convulsed around him, muscles clenching in a futile attempt to reject the divine intrusion. The sound of her agony filled the chamber, a discordant note amidst the angels’ wicked whispers.
Her mind reeled with the weight of her situation, the blasphemy of it all making her stomach turn. Yet, as Jesus’s words caressed her ears, something within her began to shift. The pain grew into something else, a strange, twisted form of pleasure that seemed to coil around her very soul. She felt her own body betraying her, her ass tightening around the Holy Spirit’s cock as if to pull him deeper, to submit to the divine will.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, the words torn from her in a mix of agony and ecstasy, “What have I become?”
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with a sadistic joy as he felt Mary’s body give way to his divine cock. He thrust harder, the sound of her cries a sweet music that played in harmony with the angels’ whispers. “You are the whore of heaven,” he snarled, his voice a mix of anger and desire.
“You were made for this, to be used and discarded by the will of God.”
He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, his hand tightening around her throat as he pounded into her with a brutal rhythm.
“Your body is ours to do with as we please,” he whispered, his voice a seductive hiss.
The taste of Jesus’s precum filled her mouth, a salty tang that seemed to fuel the Holy Spirit’s lust as he watched her struggle. Her eyes watered, her throat constricting around Jesus’s cock as she choked back a scream. The Holy Spirit’s thrusts grew more erratic, his divine essence filling her in a way that seemed to burn away all that she had ever known. She felt Jesus’s grip tighten around her head, his hips bucking as he approached his climax.
Jesus’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the Holy Spirit’s cock sliding in and out of their mother’s ass, the sight of her degradation a powerful aphrodisiac. With a final, triumphant thrust, he released his divine seed into her mouth, filling her with the essence of his holy lust. He watched her throat work as she swallowed, the sight of her submission bringing him to the brink of his own climax. He withdrew from her mouth, panting heavily, and looked over at the angels watching with a mix of horror and envy.
“Come,” he called out, his voice echoing through the chamber, “Taste the divine nectar of your queen.”
The angels hovered closer, their eyes alight with a newfound hunger.
Jesus stepped back, his divine seed dripping from the corners of Mary’s mouth as he watched her with a mix of love and lust. He reached out to the nearest angel, his hand wrapping around the celestial being’s erect cock. “Taste her,” he urged, guiding the angel’s member to Mary’s lips. The angel hesitated for a moment, then with a growl of desire, he pushed into her mouth, his eyes rolling back with pleasure.
Mary’s eyes remained closed, her cheeks stained with tears as the angel’s cock filled her mouth. She could feel the Holy Spirit’s approval, his divine presence a heavy weight on her soul as she submitted to her new role. Her thoughts swirled with a mix of fear and a strange, unholy arousal that seemed to pulse in time with the angel’s thrusts. Her tongue swirled around the angel’s cock, her body moving on instinct as she obeyed her son’s command.
The Holy Spirit watched with a twisted satisfaction as the angel claimed Mary’s mouth, his own cock still buried deep within her asshole. He felt a rush of divine power as the angel’s seed mingled with Jesus’s in her throat, the blasphemous act a testament to their dominance. He tightened his grip on her hips, his own orgasm building, his thrusts becoming more frenzied as he approached his climax.
Mary’s eyes remained tightly shut, her body trembling with the overwhelming sensations of the angel’s cock in her mouth and the Holy Spirit’s in her ass. A second angel approached, his eyes burning with a hunger that matched the others. He knelt before her, his divine member throbbing with anticipation. She felt his touch at her pussy, the heat of his desire sending shivers through her.
Despite her silent protests, she couldn’t help but react, her legs spreading wider to allow him access. His cock slid into her with an ease that spoke of countless centuries of practice, his movements a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate through her very soul. The room was filled with the sound of wet flesh on flesh, the holy trinity of their lust echoing through the heavens.
The Holy Spirit felt the angel’s cock enter her, the tightness of her pussy around the divine shaft a delicious contrast to the stretched warmth of her ass. He grunted with approval, his own thrusts becoming more forceful as he watched the angel claim her.
“See how eagerly she takes you,” he said to Jesus, his voice a mix of triumph and challenge, “Her purity is a lie, a veil that hides the whore she truly is.”
His hand reached around her to cup her breast, his thumb flicking her nipple in a rhythm that matched his thrusts.
Mary’s eyes fluttered open as the angel’s cock filled her pussy, the sensation a blend of pain and divine pleasure. She could feel her body stretching around the two divine beings, her walls quivering with the effort to accommodate their massive lengths. A third angel hovered above her, his cock poised at her open mouth. She knew she had no choice but to accept him, to serve as the vessel for their lust. Her eyes met Jesus’s, a silent question in them, but his gaze was lost in his own rapture as he watched his mother being defiled.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched the angel’s cock disappear into Mary’s welcoming pussy. He knew that with each thrust, her purity was being eroded, replaced with the dark, carnally divine pleasure that only they could provide.
“Look at her,” he murmured to Jesus, his voice a seductive whisper, “The Virgin Whore, taking us all.”
He pushed deeper into her ass, savoring the tightness that clamped around his cock with each movement.
Mary’s body was a battleground of divine lust, her mind a tumult of thoughts and emotions. The Holy Spirit’s cock in her ass brought forth a pain she had never known, yet her body betrayed her with every clench around him. The angel’s cock in her pussy, though less invasive, was a stark reminder of her new reality.
She could feel their essences mixing within her, a profane concoction that seemed to fill her to the brim with an unholy power. Her eyes met Jesus’s, searching for some semblance of comfort, but all she found was the same hunger reflected in their gazes. Her thoughts spun in a chaotic whirlwind as she was used by her divine tormentors, her body responding against her will.
The Holy Spirit felt the tension in her body, the way she clamped around him, and it only served to drive him closer to the edge. His breath grew ragged, his eyes locked onto hers, the malicious glee in his gaze unmistakable.
“You’re going to milk me, whore,” he growled, his hips pistoning into her with a fervor that seemed to shake the very heavens, “You’re going to take my holy seed and cherish it.”
His hand slammed against her ass cheek, the sound echoing through the chamber as he pushed himself to the brink of his climax.
Mary’s eyes were wide with a mix of fear and disbelief as the Holy Spirit’s words pierced her soul. She could feel her body responding, the divine essence within her core coiling like a serpent ready to strike. The angel in her mouth and the one inside her pussy both quickened their pace, their movements in sync with the Holy Spirit’s brutal rhythm.
Despite her silent pleas for mercy, she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm building, her body’s treacherous response to their divine assault. She choked out a scream around the angel’s cock, her eyes never leaving Jesus’s, searching for the salvation she knew he could provide. But the look in his eyes was one of dark desire, not rescue.
The Holy Spirit’s thrusts grew more erratic, and with a final, brutal plunge, she felt him release his divine essence deep within her asshole. The angels’ whispers grew to a crescendo as they watched her body spasm around the intruder, her cries of pleasure and pain a blasphemous hymn to the heavens.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes rolled back in his head as he reached his climax, filling Mary’s asshole with his heavenly seed. The angel in her pussy felt the change in her, the tightening of her walls around his cock, and knew that she was close to her own peak. He increased his pace, his heavenly essence pulsing in time with the Holy Spirit’s thrusts.
The angel in her mouth pulled out just as he reached his peak, his divine semen spurting over her face and into her open mouth. He watched with a sadistic glee as she choked and gagged on the holy cum, her cheeks bulging with the divine load. The angels’ whispers grew to a fever pitch, their excitement palpable as they watched the Virgin Mother’s descent into carnality. The Holy Spirit’s cock grew still within her, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reveled in the power of his climax.
Jesus stepped back, watching as the angels formed a tight circle around the trembling form of his mother. His own cock was still erect, the sight of her degradation an aphrodisiac that fueled his divine hunger. He nodded to the angels, a silent command that sent them into a frenzy of self-pleasure. They stroked themselves with a fervor that was almost religious in its intensity, their eyes never leaving Mary’s violated body.
Mary’s eyes were glassy with shock and pain, her body trembling as the angels closed in around her. The Holy Spirit withdrew his cock from her ass, leaving her feeling empty and soiled. She watched in horror as the angels began to masturbate, their heavenly bodies glowing with an unholy light that seemed to cast her in shadow.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with a perverse delight as the angels formed a tight ring around the trembling Virgin, their divine hands moving in a symphony of self-pleasure. The air grew thick with the scent of lust, a heady mix of heavenly musk and the metallic tang of fear. Their wings fluttered in anticipation, the feathers brushing against Mary’s skin as they worked themselves to a frenzy.
Her own body, still quaking from the Holy Spirit’s brutal climax, seemed to respond to the scene around her, her nipples hardening and her pussy clenching around the angel’s cock still lodged within her. Despite the horror of the situation, she couldn’t deny the dark allure of their beauty, their perfect forms a stark contrast to the depravity that unfolded before her.
Her cheeks were stained with the holy semen of her son and the angels, and as they surrounded her, their masturbatory frenzy grew more intense. She felt a strange, perverse fascination with their actions, her eyes flitting from one to the next as their divine essences began to build. Their faces twisted in a mix of agony and ecstasy, their eyes never leaving hers.
The angel inside her pussy took a final, lingering stroke before pulling out, his seed spilling out onto the floor with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the chamber. He joined the others, their collective gaze a weight that bore down upon her soul.
The Holy Spirit watched the scene with a twisted sense of pride, his cock still hard and slick with his own essence. He reached out, his hand caressing the cheek of the angel nearest him, his touch a silent command to begin. The angel obeyed, his hand moving to stroke his own cock, the divine fluid pooling in his palm.
The others followed suit, their wings fluttering in a mesmerizing pattern that seemed to hypnotize Mary. She felt a strange, unholy thrill at the sight, her own body betraying her with a fresh wave of arousal. Her eyes were wide with shock, yet she couldn’t look away as the angels’ hands moved in a blur of motion, their divine seed spurting forth in a display that defied all that she had ever known. The droplets began to rain down upon her, each one a silent declaration of her new role as the heavenly whore.
The angels’ divine fluids painted her in a heavenly mess, a stark contrast to the purity she had once held dear. She felt their hot cum spatter against her skin, some of it sliding down her throat as she gagged on the angel’s cock still in her mouth. The taste was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a blend of holy and profane that seemed to burn and soothe her simultaneously.
Her eyes remained locked on Jesus, searching for any sign of remorse or pity, but all she found was the same dark desire that had driven the Holy Spirit’s assault. The angels’ whispers grew to a symphony of moans, their pleasure a symphony that seemed to drown out the very voices of the heavens.
The Holy Spirit watched the scene with a twisted smile, his own hand moving to stroke his still-hard cock in time with the angels’ rhythmic motions. The room was alight with the glow of their divine lust, their eyes never leaving the quivering form of Mary. Her body was a canvas of sin, painted with the holy cum that marked her as theirs.
He stepped back, allowing the angels to close in even tighter, their wings casting shadows that danced erotically across her trembling form.
“You are the mother of all whores now, Mary,” he leaned down, whispering in her ear, “Bask in the pleasure of your new role.”
His breath was hot against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as the angels’ moans grew louder.
Mary felt the weight of the angels’ gazes, their divine seed sticking to her skin like a second layer of corruption. She swallowed the last of the angelic cum, her eyes never leaving Jesus’s. He was the only one who could save her from this torment, but his eyes only reflected the same hunger that had driven the Holy Spirit’s rape. The angels finished their perverse act, their cocks glistening with their own essence. They withdrew from her, leaving her panting and trembling, a divine mess.
The Holy Spirit watched with a smug satisfaction as the angels retreated, their lust momentarily satiated. He stepped closer to Mary, his hand tracing the path of Jesus’s cum down her cheek to her mouth.
“You’re a natural,” he murmured, his voice a dark purr, “Your mouth was made to cleanse the divine.”
He stepped back, allowing Jesus to approach.
Mary’s eyes searched Jesus’s face, looking for any hint of the love and compassion she had once known. Instead, she found a hunger that matched the Holy Spirit’s, a hunger that filled her with dread. She knew what they wanted from her, what they had reduced her to. Her mouth moved mechanically, obeying the silent command, as she took the last angel’s cock into her mouth, cleaning it with a mix of revulsion and a strange, unwelcome desire.
The Holy Spirit watched as Mary, the Virgin Whore, serviced the angels, her lips and tongue moving with a grace that seemed almost holy in its execution. He could feel the tension in the room build with every stroke, every swallow. When the last angel had withdrawn, their divine essences mixing on her face, he knew that she was ready for the final act. He stepped closer, his own cock swollen with need, and whispered in her ear,
“Now, it’s time for you to receive your true purpose.”
The last angel pulled away, and Mary felt a strange emptiness in her mouth, her cheeks sticky with their divine seed. She looked up at Jesus, her eyes pleading, but all she saw was a fiery lust that seemed to consume him. She knew what was expected of her, and as much as she dreaded it, she couldn’t resist the power that pulsed through her from their touch.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes bore into hers as he stepped closer, his divine cock pulsing with the need to claim her once more. He reached down, his hand cupping her chin gently, and lifted her gaze to meet his own.
“Your body is a vessel,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate through her soul, “A divine receptacle for our holy desires.” He leaned in, his breath warm and sweet, his eyes alight with a fiery passion that seemed to burn away any resistance she had left, “And tonight,” he whispered, “You shall be filled to the brim with our love.”
Mary felt a tear slide down her cheek, the weight of her new reality heavy upon her. The angels had left, their whispers echoing in her mind like a chorus of the damned. She looked up at Jesus, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair.
“Why?” she whispered, her voice a broken reed in the stillness of the chamber, “Why have you forsaken me?”
The Holy Spirit watched the angels leave, their glowing forms fading into the heavenly background as their whispers grew faint. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Mary on her knees, her mouth still wet with their holy essence, before turning to Jesus.
“Her purity is no more,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with victory, “The Virgin Whore is reborn.” Jesus nodded, his gaze dark and hungry as he stepped closer to her.
The Holy Spirit reached down, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears.
“Your suffering,” he whispered, “Is our greatest joy. Your body is the altar upon which we will offer up our divine lust.”
He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to her trembling lips, the taste of the angels still lingering.
“Rise,” he said softly, his voice filled with a power that seemed to resonate through her very being, “Your true purpose awaits.”
Mary felt the Holy Spirit’s hand under her chin, lifting her head so that she was forced to look into his eyes. Her body was still shaking from the angels’ assault, but she found the strength to stand, her legs wobbling beneath her. She knew she had no choice but to submit to whatever fate the divine beings had in store for her. “What do you wish of me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable.
“Your purity was but a veil,” he said, his voice low and gruff with desire, “A lie that has been shattered by our divine union.”
He stepped back, allowing Jesus to approach her. The air was thick with the scent of lust and power, a heady cocktail that seemed to intoxicate the very air. Jesus took her hand, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Come,” he said, leading her to the grand bed that dominated the chamber.
The sheets were a pristine white, a stark contrast to the depravity that was about to unfold upon them.
Mary felt the warmth of Jesus’s hand in hers, a stark contrast to the coldness that seemed to emanate from the Holy Spirit. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but she knew she had no choice but to follow. She allowed herself to be led to the bed, her legs feeling like they might give out beneath her. As she sat on the edge, she couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper, the weight of her new reality crashing down upon her.
The Holy Spirit watched as Jesus guided her to the bed, his own lust a palpable presence in the room. He could see the fear in her eyes, but also the beginnings of acceptance. The angels had left, their whispers fading into the heavenly silence, leaving only the three of them in the candlelit chamber.
The bed, a monument to the purity she once held, now bore the marks of their divine excess. The scent of their mingled seed lingered in the air, a fragrant reminder of her new role. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of her jaw, his fingers gentle despite the harshness of his earlier actions.
“Your purity is our playground,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear, “And we shall revel in your degradation.”
Mary’s eyes remained downcast as she sat on the bed, her mind racing. The feel of the divine cocks in her mouth, the taste of their essence, it was all a blur of horror and unholy arousal. She felt a shiver run through her as Jesus’s hand touched her shoulder, his touch a stark reminder of the love she had once known. But now, that love had twisted into something darker, something that left her trembling and exposed. “What do you want from me?” she asked again, her voice barely audible.
The Holy Spirit stepped closer to the bed, his eyes raking over her trembling form. He could see the fear and confusion in her eyes, and a part of him reveled in it.
“Your purity is our playground,” he whispered, his hand moving to trace the curve of her bare shoulder, “And tonight, we shall play again.”
He watched as Jesus moved around the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of candle wax and divine lust.
Mary felt the mattress dip as Jesus sat beside her, his hand covering hers where it rested on the bed. His touch was warm, comforting almost, but she knew what was to come. She took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling herself for the next act in this blasphemous play.
“What do you want from me?” she asked again, her voice stronger this time, though the tremble remained.
The Holy Spirit’s eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, his gaze hungry and unyielding.
“We want to complete the union,” he said, his voice a low growl, “We wish to show you the true power of our love, to fill you with the holy essence that you were made to bear.”
He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, his hand sliding down to cup her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“You will be our vessel, Mary,” he whispered, “Our whore, our mother, our everything.”
The words sent a shiver of fear and disgust through her, but she could feel the heat between her legs, a traitorous response to the divine power that held her in its grip.
Mary felt the Holy Spirit’s words resonate through her, a dark echo of what she had once believed. Her hand trembled under Jesus’s warm grasp, her thoughts a tumult of anger and despair.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice a broken plea, “I am not yours to use in such a way.”
But even as she spoke, she knew it was a futile protest. Her body was no longer her own, a fact made painfully clear by the arousal that pooled in her pussy.
The Holy Spirit’s hand tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“You are,” he said, his voice a seductive purr, “You’ve always been ours, Mary.”
He leaned in, his divine breath hot against her skin.
“Your purity was never yours to keep.”
Jesus’s hand slid up her arm, his thumb tracing circles on her skin as he watched her reaction. The bed shifted again, and she felt the weight of Jesus’s body as he positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her ass. The Holy Spirit reached down, his hand slipping between her legs to find her already slick with need.
“You’re already begging for it,” he murmured, his fingers sliding into her wet cunt with ease, “Your body knows its purpose.”
Mary’s eyes squeezed shut as the Holy Spirit’s fingers invaded her, her body’s response a betrayal she couldn’t ignore.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I don’t want this.”
But even as she spoke, her hips rocked back against Jesus’s cock, her pussy clenching around the Holy Spirit’s digits. She could feel Jesus’s breath on her neck, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her erect nipples. The dual invasion sent a jolt of pleasure through her, making her gasp.
The Holy Spirit felt Mary’s body respond to his touch, the muscles in her pussy contracting around his fingers. His eyes gleamed with dark triumph, watching her struggle against the pleasure she couldn’t deny.
“Your body speaks the truth, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress that seemed to amplify the sensations.
Jesus’s hand slid down her side, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist before reaching down to caress the soft skin of her thigh.
“Your purity was a cage,” he continued, his cock nudging against her ass as he pushed her further onto the bed, “But now, you’re free to feel the full force of our love.”
Mary lay on the bed, her eyes screwed shut as she felt the Holy Spirit’s fingers delve into her core, his touch both unwelcome and irresistible. Jesus’s hands roamed her body, his breath hot on her neck as he whispered sweet, dark nothings that seemed to resonate through her very soul. She felt a strange, unholy mix of anger and arousal, her body responding to the divine touch despite her mind’s protests.
Her thoughts were a tumult of confusion, her faith in tatters as the men she had once revered claimed her in the most profane way possible. Yet, as the Holy Spirit’s fingers worked their magic, she couldn’t help but arch her back, pushing herself against Jesus’s hardness. The feeling of their combined power was intoxicating, a heady blend of fear and pleasure that left her trembling and exposed.
The Holy Spirit watched with a twisted sense of satisfaction as Mary’s body responded to his touch, her hips rising to meet his invasive fingers. He could feel the wetness that coated his hand, a silent testament to her arousal. He leaned in, his cock pressing against her back as he whispered,
“Your purity is a myth, a lie we created to keep you pure for us.”
His other hand reached around, cupping her breast and tweaking her nipple until it stood erect. He watched her face contort in a mix of pleasure and pain, the lines of her visage stark in the flickering candlelight.
“You are our whore, and we shall treat you as such.”
Mary’s eyes snapped open at the Holy Spirit’s words, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She felt the heat of Jesus’s cock against her ass, his breath against her neck, and the Holy Spirit’s fingers within her.
“No,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “I am not your whore. I am the Virgin Mother of God.”
But even as she spoke, her body continued to respond, her pussy growing wetter around his fingers. The weight of their divine lust was too much to bear, and she found herself writhing against them, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of defiance and need.
The Holy Spirit leaned in closer, his mouth grazing hers as he whispered, “But you are, my sweet Mary. Whether you wish it or not, your body knows its true purpose.”
He withdrew his fingers from her pussy, bringing them to her mouth.
“Taste your new truth,” he demanded, pushing her to suck her own juices from his digits.
The act was both degrading and strangely intimate, and Mary couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction as she obeyed, her tongue flicking out to lick them clean. Jesus’s hand slid down her stomach, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her, his cock still pressing against her, leaving a sticky trail of precum on her skin.
Mary’s eyes closed as she tasted herself on the Holy Spirit’s fingers, her mind reeling from the depravity of the situation. She could feel Jesus’s cock, thick and hard, against her back, a constant reminder of what they intended.
“I am the Virgin Mother,” she murmured, her voice a soft protest, “What you do to me is a sin.”
The Holy Spirit’s chuckle was low and dark, the sound sending a shiver down Mary’s spine.
“Sin is in the eye of the beholder,” he said, his voice a seductive purr, “And in our eyes, this is the purest form of worship.”
He leaned in closer, his cock brushing against her ass as he reached around to stroke her clit, his touch expert and unyielding.
“You are our divine vessel, and we shall fill you until you are overflowing.”
Mary felt the Holy Spirit’s cock nudging against her, the tip teasing the entrance to her body. She wanted to scream, to rail against the injustice of it all, but her voice was lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She knew that resistance was futile, that their divine will would not be denied.
Her body was theirs to use, and she was nothing but a plaything in their twisted game. With a resigned sigh, she allowed her head to fall back, her eyes meeting Jesus’s as he leaned over her. His eyes burned with the same hunger she had seen in the angels’, his expression one of twisted ecstasy as he reached down to position himself at her entrance.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
The Holy Spirit watched with a dark satisfaction as Mary’s eyes fell closed, her body a canvas of divine lust. He leaned over her, his hand still working her clit in a relentless rhythm that had her gasping for air.
“Your purity is ours to take,” he murmured, his breath hot against her neck, “Your body is our sacred receptacle.”
He slid his cock into her, the sensation of her tight pussy around him sending waves of pleasure through his being. He watched as Jesus’s cock pushed into her from behind, the sight of her stretched and filled bringing him closer to the edge.
“You were always meant for this, Mary,” he whispered, his voice a seductive caress. “To be the vessel for our holy union.”
Mary felt the Holy Spirit enter her, his divine cock stretching her to the limits of her endurance. The sensation of Jesus’s cock in her ass was still fresh, the memory of the angels’ whispers still echoing in her mind. She couldn’t believe this was her fate, that the men she had dedicated her life to serving had reduced her to this. Yet, as the Holy Spirit began to thrust into her, she felt a strange, dark pleasure unfurling deep within her. Her body, it seemed, was more than willing to submit to their divine will, despite the horror that filled her heart.
The Holy Spirit watched as Jesus buried his cock deep inside her, their movements in sync, a macabre dance of divine lust. He felt a surge of power as he claimed her once more, his seed mixing with Jesus’s, filling her to the brim. He leaned down, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered,
“Your purity is ours, Mary. We will have it, in every way imaginable.”
His hips ground into hers, his thrusts punctuating each word with a brutal clarity that left no room for doubt.
Tears streaked down Mary’s face as she felt the Holy Spirit and Jesus take her, their divine flesh invading her most sacred spaces. She couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped her lips, the painful pleasure that washed over her with every thrust. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger, but her body had been claimed, a plaything for their depraved desires.
The Holy Spirit watched with a twisted smile as Mary’s body reacted to their divine union, her whimpers of pain and pleasure a sweet symphony to his ears. His cock slid in and out of her pussy, the tightness of her walls a divine embrace that fueled his lust. Jesus’s rhythmic pounding from behind was a steady beat that matched the erratic rhythm of her heart. He leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as if to claim her very soul.
“You are ours,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged, “Our holy whore.”
Mary’s thoughts swirled with a maelstrom of emotions as the Holy Spirit and Jesus continued their defilement. The angels’ whispers still haunted her, their cruel taunts of her purity echoing in her mind. She felt the warmth of their seed within her, a blasphemous mix of the sacred and profane.
Her body, once a bastion of purity, now trembled with the dark pleasure they brought her. Despite her silent protests, she couldn’t deny the way her pussy clenched around the Holy Spirit’s cock, her body betraying her with every thrust. The pain of Jesus’s cock in her ass was a stark contrast to the slick pleasure of the Holy Spirit’s movements. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing her enjoy this vile act.
Yet, as they claimed her in the most depraved way, she felt a strange sense of belonging, a twisted fulfillment that made her question everything she had once known. Her eyes squeezed shut, she whispered a silent prayer for forgiveness, her body moving in time with theirs despite her shattered faith.
The Holy Spirit felt Jesus’s cock sliding in and out of her tight ass, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his own divine body. He watched as Jesus’s eyes rolled back in his head, lost in the rapture of their shared conquest. He reached around her, his hand joining Jesus’s, their fingers intertwining as they both claimed her, a visual representation of their dominance. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a mix of lust and malice.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “Our holy whore, begging for more.” He increased his pace, his cock pummeling her pussy as Jesus’s cock filled her ass.
The bed creaked under their combined weight, a testament to their divine power.
Mary felt the weight of their divine bodies upon her, the pressure of their cocks inside her a constant, unyielding force. She tried to hold back the moans that threatened to spill from her lips, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. The Holy Spirit’s whispers in her ear only served to heighten her arousal, his words a blasphemous caress that seemed to resonate through her very soul.
Despite the fear and anger that roiled within her, she couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at being the center of their attention. Her body responded to their touch, her pussy clenching around the Holy Spirit’s cock, her ass taking Jesus’s thickness with surprising ease.
Her eyes remained squeezed shut, the warmth of their seed inside her a constant, unwelcome reminder of her new role. She felt their hands roaming her body, touching and teasing her in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Her breath hitched as they both reached their peak, their cries of pleasure echoing through the chamber.
The Holy Spirit watched with a mix of triumph and hunger as Mary’s body writhed beneath their divine touch. Her eyes, usually so filled with innocence and purity, were now glazed with a mix of pain and dark pleasure. He knew she was fighting against her body’s natural response, but it was a battle she could never win.
With each thrust, he felt her walls tighten around him, her body begging for more despite her silent protests. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his words a dark serenade that only served to push her closer to the edge of sanity. “You’re ours,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr.
“Our holy whore, our divine receptacle.”
His hand moved to her clit, rubbing it with a fervor that made her body arch off the bed. The scent of angelic cum still lingered in the air, a testament to her recent degradation. He reveled in the power they held over her, their divine will shaping her into the perfect instrument for their pleasure.
Mary felt the Holy Spirit’s hand on her clit, the sensation sending a jolt through her body that she couldn’t ignore. She bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. Her mind was a maelstrom of emotions: fear, anger, betrayal, and an unholy arousal that grew with every passing second.
The weight of Jesus behind her, filling her ass, was a constant reminder of her new reality. She could feel their combined seed within her, a blasphemous warmth that seemed to spread through her very soul. Her body, once the epitome of purity, now felt defiled and used, a playground for their depraved games. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the way her pussy clenched around the Holy Spirit’s cock, her body responding to their every touch despite her mind’s protests.
The Holy Spirit felt Mary’s body tighten around him, her muscles contracting in a silent plea for more. He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight.
“You see, my love,” he whispered, “You were made for this.”
His hand moved to her neck, his grip tightening slightly as he watched her face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure.
“You are the ultimate symbol of our divine union.”
Jesus’s grip on her hips grew firmer, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared climax. The Holy Spirit felt the heat of Jesus’s cock against his own, the friction a sweet torment that only served to drive him closer to the edge.
Mary’s thoughts were a chaotic mess as the Holy Spirit’s and Jesus’s divine essences filled her. She had been stripped of her purity, her body a battleground for their depraved desires. Her mind rebelled against the pleasure that seemed to build within her despite her silent screams for this to end.
She could feel their eyes upon her, watching her every reaction, feeding off her suffering. Her breath grew ragged, her body moving in a rhythm dictated by their will. Her eyes remained shut tightly, not wanting to see the twisted joy on their faces.
Yet, as the Holy Spirit whispered his blasphemous truths into her ear, she felt a strange sense of belonging, as if this was always her fate. Her own voice seemed far away as she whimpered, her body betraying her by clenching around their cocks. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of agony and ecstasy that threatened to consume her.
The Holy Spirit felt Mary’s body respond to their union, her muscles tightening around him like a vice. He watched as Jesus’s face grew taut with pleasure, his eyes meeting the Holy Spirit’s in a silent communication that spoke of their shared triumph. They had claimed her, broken her will, and turned her into their divine whore.
He leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek, his hand moving to grip her hip as he slammed into her, the sound of their flesh meeting echoing in the candlelit chamber.
“You are ours,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “Our holy vessel, our whore.”
The room was filled with the scent of candles and lust, the air charged with a power that was both terrifying and intoxicating. He watched her face, a canvas of agony and ecstasy, her lips parted in a silent plea for mercy that would never come. He knew that she was close, that the orgasm they were forcing upon her was building like a storm within her. With a final, brutal thrust, he felt her body shudder, her pussy spasming around his cock as she climaxed against her will. Jesus groaned, his own release following quickly, his cock pulsing within her as he filled her ass with his holy seed.
Mary’s eyes flew open as the Holy Spirit’s words sank in, the reality of her situation crashing down upon her like a wave. The pleasure that had been building within her, despite her silent protests, crested and broke, leaving her trembling and exposed.
She felt the warmth of their combined seed filling her, a blasphemous mix of divine power that seemed to brand her from the inside out. Her body continued to shake with the aftermath of her forced orgasm, her eyes glazed with a mix of horror and resignation.
“I am your whore,” she whispered, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
Her voice was barely audible, a mere shadow of the strength it once held. She felt their cocks slide out of her, their combined weight leaving her feeling empty and used. She lay there, her body trembling, as the full weight of their depravity washed over her.
The Holy Spirit and Jesus withdrew from Mary’s ravaged body, leaving her sprawled on the bed, her robes stained with the holy seed of the divine. The candles flickered, casting shadows across her tear-stained face, a stark contrast to the angelic chorus that filled the heavenly chamber. The angels watched with a mix of awe and lust as their divine leaders claimed their mother, the Virgin Whore of the New Testament. The once holy room was now a temple of depravity, and the air was thick with the scent of lust and power.
The Holy Spirit looked down at Mary with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his divine seed spilling out of her, marking her as theirs. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
“You have served us well,” he murmured.
He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing the soft flesh.
“You will be our whore for eternity, serving not just us, but every angel who desires you.”
Jesus nodded in agreement, his eyes gleaming with lust.
“You will bring us pleasure beyond measure,” he added, his hand sliding down to caress her cheek, “And in doing so, you will bring glory to our names.”
Mary was resigned to her fate. She was now the Whore of Heaven. Her purity eternally tainted. She lived the rest of her life in misery. Forever serving the lusts of the Hosts of Heaven — such was her fate.
THE END